


6 Six 6

by undersail2013



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Loves Pie, Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Original Character(s), POV Multiple, Superpowers, Wing Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-30
Updated: 2013-08-30
Packaged: 2017-12-25 02:36:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/947591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undersail2013/pseuds/undersail2013
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six short tales about Dean and Castiel, from "The End" to the end</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. We Had an Appointment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner at the drive-in gets a little intimate

Dean snapped the phone shut, muttering, “Well, that’s done.”

“Are you ready to talk about-”

‘Hang on, in the last three days I’ve eaten nothing but expired MREs and stale Twinkies. I’m starving. Let’s go grab a few burgers. We can talk on the way.”

Dean pulled in at the first burger joint he spotted, a festive-looking place with lots of neon signs and a few old vintage beauties roosting amongst the minivans; Dean’s Baby fit right in. Naturally, it was a busy night at the drive-in. Fifteen minutes elapsed before anyone bothered to take their order. The kitchen was out of bacon and they were going to have to brew a fresh pot of coffee. But the colorful menu boards boasted big perky burgers with all the trimmings and they even listed three different types of pie: cherry, Key lime, and French silk. Dean was willing to endure a few more minutes of hunger pangs for a meal with such promise. He and Castiel talked through their business regarding the Colt and Lucifer, Zachariah’s object lesson, and the impending reunion with Sam and were just beginning to pursue other topics of discussion when the cute waitress with the blowsy hair stopped by the Impala’s driver-side door.

“Hey guys, gonna be a few more minutes on the coffee.”

“No problem, sweetheart.”

“And I did tell you we had to eighty-six the cherry, right?”

“Uh no. Let me have the French silk instead.”

“Can do,” she smiled. “Burgers be up in a minute.”

‘Sure thing, thanks.” She flitted off, and Dean’s expression fell. “Damn!” he grumbled, hitting the steering wheel a little harder than he meant to. “Oops, sorry Baby. So Cas, where were we?”

‘I believe we were discussing whether it would rain tomorrow.”

“Huh. Yeah. Oh, she’s coming back already.” Dean rubbed his hands together impatiently. “I could eat a horse.”

“American burgers are typically made out of cow.”

“Figure of speech. Right over here, sister,” he beckoned to the waitress.

She rattled off each item as she passed the order to Dean. “Okay, that’s two specials, hold the lettuce; one spankin’-fresh coffee (careful hon; it’s hot), and a Key lime pie.”

“Key lime? Sorry, I wanted the French silk.”

She frowned. “Oh that’s right, I knew that. This is actually for the Firebird. I’ll have it out to you in a jiffy.”

“Take your time.” To Cas, he growled, “Figures. Always too good to be true.” Stifling his disappointment, he tucked into the first burger and soon found himself too happily engaged in the meaty extravaganza at hand to care about second-choice pie. Slowly, though, Dean became aware that the angel was watching him. Dean gestured to the bag and wordlessly insisted that Cas take the other sandwich.

“I don’t eat, Dean,” Cas averred.

Dean swallowed and took a swig of coffee. “I know, dude, but I got it for you. It’s yours if you want it.”

“You should eat it. You look hungry.”

“I had a hell of a week.” He filled in a few more blanks from his trip into the future, still carefully avoiding any mention of his friend’s human status.

Castiel’s brow furrowed deeper as Dean talked. But at the end of Dean’s tale, he said only, “You know, it wasn’t really three days in Earth time.”

“Well, however long I was on the holodeck, it sucked, and it makes me all the more glad to give those dicks a big fuck-you. Sorry, your brothers and all.”

A silence fell between them as Dean ate. In response to the lull, Castiel turned on the radio, turning it up slightly upon detecting a Winchester favorite. Dean’s eyes lit up, and he nodded approvingly. He held out the last half of the second burger. “Sure you won’t try it?” Castiel hesitated. “This is the best bite: right here, with the pickle and the big chunk of cheese.”

“I’d hate to be rude,” Cas mumbled. He leaned across the wide front seat and accepted a mouthful of hamburger from the spot Dean had indicated. He chewed thoughtfully and remarked on the texture of the meat.

Dean let him take another bite, before polishing it off. He sat a moment contemplating Castiel. “What’s it like for you when you eat?” he asked. “Can you taste?”

“Yes, I can taste. If I taste too carefully, I can detect the final feelings of the slaughtered animal, which can be rather unpleasant. Angels have the same senses as humans, but ours are more sensitive. Also more numerous.”

“Oh? How many do angels have?”

Cas shook his head. “I’m not sure. They overlap a good deal. Most of them would pertain to sight, but then there’s, what do you call it, angel radio.”

“So you can see things we can’t?”

“I don’t know; I can’t see through your eyes. But based on human thought patterns, I think you can’t see the facial markings.”

“Markings?”

Cas turned the rearview mirror towards Dean. “Tell me what you see.”

“Uh, okay. Green eyes-”

“How many?”

Dean paused, casting a confused look at Cas. “Two. Eyelashes, eyebrows, two of ’em, um.”

“Go on.”

“Nose, mouth, two lips, bunch of teeth, uh, skin.”

Castiel touched a finger to the corner of Dean’s eyes. “And here?”

Dean shivered. “Oh, I guess I have a few wrinkles there.”

“And the black lines?”

Dean jerked his face towards the angel. “What do you mean, Cas?”

“Metaphysical cues manifesting as colored patches on the skin. We can see if a human is tired, hungry, guilty at a glance.” He moved closer and touched the crow’s foot again. “These lines tell me how long it has been since you slept. The green spot here on your temple faded as you ate.” Another perusal. “Angels do not intuitively understand the human aging process, so we use this line here,” tracing an invisible mark along Dean’s aorta, “to know if our subject is young or old. I once saw an ancient whose line covered half his neck; a child’s begins at a hair’s breadth. Your line is just the width of my finger,” he murmured, tracing the path again.

The finger tingled Dean’s throat, not unpleasantly. He tried to joke, “So is there a lifeline? You can tell me how long I’ll live?”

“Yes, but I won’t,” he replied firmly. “And you, of all people, don’t want to know.” Dean looked uncomfortable. Castiel studied Dean’s face again. Using his pinky, he gingerly brushed the left side of Dean’s forehead. “There’s a lot of information up here.”

“Where you poke us.”

“Yes. I have to be careful not to trip anything crucial.” His eyes moved to Dean’s mouth. He squinted, thought a moment. “You didn’t mention it, but from what little I know of human courtship, I assume you can see the pink line.” As he spoke, he gently ran the side of his thumb along Dean’s bottom lip, just below the lip line. ‘It lights up when a human feels- hmm. It activated.”

Dean’s eyes fluttered. “Cas…”

The angel moved still closer and absent-mindedly retraced the pink line. “It should indicate love. I wonder-”

Dean clasped his hand around the skinny wrist before him. “Cas.” He sucked in his breath. “You, um, you should stop touching my face now,” he whispered.

Castiel sat back. He looked at the line, found Dean’s eyes, dropped his to his hand. He nodded. “I understand. I’m sorry, Dean.” And he disappeared.

 


	2. Pandemonium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam makes a joke that makes Dean angry

Sam’s sitting at the computer, supposedly doing research, but he hasn’t typed a word in a good ten minutes. Ten bucks says he’s wasting time on Tumblr when we’ve got a case. I’m *this* close to saying something when he starts laughing. An honest-to-god gut-busting laugh.

“Whatcha got, Sammy?”

“Nothing.” Poker face.

“That was a hell of a nothing. This about the case?”

“Oh, I was just you know, checking the chatter online, seeing if anything pops up.” 

“Uh-huh. What’s Tumblr got you laughing about?” 

Sam knows he’s busted. “It’s nothing.” Right, like I’m letting him off the hook that easy. “You’re gonna be pissed at me.” 

“Enlighten me.”

He sighs and waves me over. Turns the screen to face me, but all I see is a big rectangle, looks like a flag. Pink, yellow, and blue stripes.

“I don’t get it.” Sam scrolls down to the text: “‘Pansexuality: sexual or emotional attraction, desire, or romantic love toward people of all gender identities and biological sexes.’ Still not seeing it. Why is that funny?”

“It’s you! It’s totally you!”

“Come again?”

“You think you’re straight, but you flirt with anyone and anything. And your whole life is nothing but supernatural creatures that don’t necessarily conform to human binary gender expression.” He starts giggling like a fucking schoolgirl. “You banged an angel, and you’ve got another one, a male angel, completely in love with you. And don’t tell me you don’t have a man-crush on Dr. Sexy.” 

Son of a bitch. “What are you fucking saying, Sammy?” 

He pulls an about-face. “Whoa, dude. I’m sorry, Dean, it was just a joke. Look, I did say you’d get mad, but you wanted to know-”

“You have got to be kidding me.” This is unbelievable. “I’m going out.”

I grab my coat and start walking, no particular direction, just trying to get the hell out of Dodge. Goddammit, Sammy, where do you get off? Why would Sammy think of me as anything but straight? He knows I like chicks. Hot chicks. Especially hot stripper chicks. Hell, any chicks, I’m not picky. Maybe that’s his point. Sigh. But seriously, Dr. Sexy? That’s just television, that’s not a man-crush. I’ve seen the dudes in the live-action porn he watches. (At least he didn’t bring up the anime. Ah, happy sigh for anime!) What was my point? Oh, not gay! Not pansexual or whatever. Okay, maybe he’s right about the supernatural thing. I’ll admit, I might have seen a monster or three in my day that I probably would have considered kinda cute, if I wasn’t so dead-set on ganking them. Don’t get me wrong, I’d rather hunt them than fuck them, but if the right one came along, I wouldn’t say no. And Anna? She was human at the time. And a girl. And the world was ending tomorrow- it’s kinda my thing. And I know for fact that Sam has banged way worse than a red-headed former angel. But Cas? Sigh. No, this is stupid, I’m not gonna think about this. He does have gorgeous eyes. What the hell, Dean? Well, he does- I’m his friend, I can say it. Goddammit, why do we have to have these weird conversations every time Sam surfs the goddamn internet? Forget this, I’m not gonna get all deep and introspective just because Sam learns a new word. Jesus Christ, why’d he have to bring up the damn angels? Deep sigh. “Cas.”

“Hello, Dean.”

I about jump out of my skin. “What are you doing here, Cas?”

“I thought you called me.” 

I rub a hand over my eyes. “Did I? I didn’t mean to.” 

“It sounded like a prayer. I thought it might be important.”

“No nothing important. Sam pissed me off, and I ran out. He finds this thing online and now he’s labeling me, says I’m pansexual, whatever the hell that is.”

“He may be right.”

For the second time today, I bitch-face “Come again?”

Cas looks hard at me, then he says, “Some species of animals are purely heterosexual, and others have introduced variation into the gene pool. Humans fall into the latter category. Human sexuality is not standardized across all specimens. Some never have sex, some only engage in procreative sex, and others do it recreationally, just to see what it feels like. So I understand. You, Dean, fall into the latter category.” 

I’m so done. “First, my brother wants to psychoanalyze me, and now I’ve got an angel standing here telling me about the birds and the bees. Cas, you think I’m this, what, gay plus infinity?”

“I want to reassure you if you’re having doubts.” 

“No, I’m not having doubts!” Why can’t everyone stay the hell out of my fucking business?! 

He’s looking at me again. No, through me. Why does it always feel like this when he stares at me like that? Those eyes. Dammit, an angel in a trenchcoat is not making me melt. 

So of course he walks closer to me. They’re so blue... Shut up, Dean, shut up, shut- Gasp. Cas is kissing me. God help me, his lips are so warm. What do I do?

“Shut up, Dean,” he whispers.

I pull away. “What did you say?” It’s barely a question.

“I said-”

“You said the exact thing I just thought. You heard me.” How about now?

_I heard that, too._

What the hell, Cas? Why are you in my head?

_I don’t mean to intrude. I find your thoughts very interesting._

What (I) could (want) possibly (him) be (to) so (kiss) interesting (me) about (again) me? 

Oh shit, he heard that- he’s kissing me again. Oh shit shit shit. Oh Cas, you little shit!

_Dean._

Yes?

_Please shut up._

Yessir.


	3. Head Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas rides shotgun and other things

Cas, you beautiful piece of ass, get down here and ride shotgun with me. I’m bored. 

_Hello, Dean._

Are you a sight for sore eyes. Talk to me- what have you been doing?

_I’m trying to fix my family._

How’s that going?

_Well, it’s a slow process._

Anything we can do to help?

_Not unless you know of a ward against big brothers._

Haha.

_Oh, I guess you wouldn’t. Sorry. Dean?_

Yes, Cas?

_I always like when you put your hand on my knee like that, though I can’t explain why._

Hm. I like it, too. What are you doing now?

_I found a few new scars on your hand. I’m healing them. I don’t have much time for you these days, but I can try to keep you boys whole._

That’s nice, Cas. Sigh. I- we miss having you around all the time. I got spoiled having someone to talk to on overnight drives. And North Dakota to Rhode Island is no picnic. Sammy’s happy he gets to drive this trip.

_How is he doing?_

Seems to be holding up just fine. He’s sleeping now. We were just in Portland, dealing with dragon. So get this: they got the gold, they got the virgins, but then they also got this ancient book made out of human skin. 

_Really? Skin?_

Yup. 

_What, um, what was it about? I- I don’t suppose it was in a language anyone reads?_

Latin. But even Bobby’s having a time reading it. He says there’s a spell to open purgatory.

_Huh. Why would anyone want to do that?_

No idea. 

“Hey Cas, when’d you get here?” Sam asks sleepily.

“Hello Sam. Dean said you were sleeping. I didn’t want to wake you.”

“I’m in and out. Hopefully going back out. Have a nice drive. Dean, wake me anytime.”

“You know I will. Night, Sammy.”

“Good night, Sam.”

“Night.”

He’ll be out for a while. He always wakes up once after an hour, then he’s asleep ’til dawn.

_I envy you the relationship you have with your brother._

Yeah well, call me when you only have one left, and then we’ll talk.

_I’m sorry, Dean, that was insensitive of me._

Forget it, Cas. So it goes.

_Dean?_

Yes, Cas?

_I have missed you two as well. But mostly you._

Hmm. 

…

Hey Cas.

_Yes, Dean._

Sammy’s asleep.

_Yes._

Talk dirty to me.

_What do you mean?_

Sext me. 

_I still don’t understand-_

I don’t know if it’s too much coffee or not enough sleep, but I want you, Cas.

_... Sex?_

… Yeah.

_… Now, Dean?_

… Well, not while we’re driving, no. But someday. I want to have sex with you, Cas.

_I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say._

Me either. I don’t know, forget I said anything. It’s stupid.

_… I’d rather not forget you said anything. I think it’s a good idea._

Huh. … Tunes. I just need my hand back for a second so I can find a station. … Hey Cas, I, uh, I need a little time to think. Would you mind getting out of my head for a while? 

_Of course._

“Stay close, though, okay?” 

“I will, Dean.”

… … … … 

“We’re almost to Pennsylvania.”

_Dean._

Yes, Cas?

_I want you, too._

Hmm. … Well, kissing my palm like that is a step in the right direction. Mmm. 

_Dean. Pull over._

My pleasure. 

_Yes, that’s the point._

Mmm. There’s an exit in half a mile.

_Will you make it that long?_

Not with your wing on my neck, Cas baby. You?

_Your hand squeezing my thigh. It hurts. I like it._

Good. I want to make you so happy.

_Park there._

Yessir. … Kiss me. Oh Cas. I love when you touch my hair. … Hey baby, don’t take my clothes off yet- Sammy’s in the car.

“But we’re not.”

Wha-? “Where are we?”

“Ostensibly, a farmhouse somewhere in Kansas.” I’m on my back in a big white bed, in a sparsely furnished room with a vaulted open-timbered ceiling. A fan spinning lazily overhead. “In reality, we’re on a different plane of existence. I made you a beautiful room. Just for you, Dean.” His mouth is on mine. His fingers pulling at my jeans. Oh Cas. 

“So you have time to be domestic but not for hunting with us.”

“Even warriors need hobbies. Now please stop talking. I’ve never done this before and I, I need to concentrate.”

“I’ll be quiet. But stay out of my head.”

Those eyes, deciding where to start. My shirts go first. His lips on my neck. He traces his tongue up the left side, that spot he always touches and makes me feel on fire. I want to take his clothes off, but he’s batting my hands away. 

“Let me touch you,” I’m begging.

“Not yet.”

“At least take off the tie so you don’t strangle yourself.”

“I can’t be killed by a strip of cloth, Dean.” But he lets me loosen it, and his buttons. He shrugs his shoulders free of everything. He looks like he’d be so skinny under all those clothes, but oh my God. I am not kidding, touching his chest is a religious experience. 

“Ca-as.”

“Shh.”

Note to self: Cas has no idea how jeans work. He struggles a minute, then he gives up.

“Dude, did you just zap my pants?”

“Yes.” He looks a little embarrassed, but he smiles.

“Where are they?”

“Not where; when. We’ll find them later.”

“So now we’re in the sisterhood of the time-travelling pants?”

He shuts me up with his mouth on mine. Then I swear he kisses every square inch of me. “Cas baby, you’re driving me crazy.” It takes me way too long to realize what he’s doing: he’s finding and fixing every tiny scar, every bruise. It’s so Cas I could cry. I love this angel.

“I love you too, Dean.”

“Shh. Kissing.” 

Oh hell, he missed a few square inches, but he’s found them now. “Oh Cas.” I can’t breathe. His mouth is so hot, I’m not gonna last long. Shit, I can’t even think. I’m just gonna bury my hands in his fucking fuckable hair and enjoy it. I can’t breathe. Shit, fuck, goddammit, fuck me, oh fuck, it’s so good. “Ohhhh. Ca-a-a-a-s. Oh sweet baby Cas.” Thank you, Cas. 

His eyes are glowing white and he growls. “Roll over.” 

Yessir. 

I don’t know what I expected, but it’s a-fucking-mazing being fucked by Cas. Every sin, every virtue. It hurts like hell, and he’s healing me at the same time; some bizarre friction like sandpaper wrapped in cotton balls. Except I just passed out. Again. It’s so good, and I don’t remember much. Goddammit, I’m coming again oh fuck. How many is that? I’m whimpering. I can’t do this. “Oh Cas, no more, I’m so tired, I’m so tired, it’s too much, t-”

It’s so bright, and he’s roaring. Oh Cas no, stop baby, I think you just ripped me in half. I can’t breathe. Panting, shaking. I’m seizing. “I’m gonna die.” I’m dying. NO CAS SAVE ME DON’T LET ME DIE BABY PLEASE! Roll me over, save me. “cas…”

His hands on my face, his eyes closed, straddling me, pressing down his forehead on mine, I think he’s mantling me, but in a good way. “Dean, don’t die. Come back, Dean. DEAN!”

Cas. I’m here. Listen to me. I’m not dead. Not anymore. “I’m here.” 

Oh no, he’s crying. “Dean. I’m so sorry, Dean. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t know it would be like that.”

“Me neither, buddy. Oh Cas.” My hands on his face, too. “Oh my sweet Cas,” I smile. “You can fuck me all day every day, but please don’t ever kill me again.”

“Dean.” His face is breaking my heart. He looks so sad. So sad. So…

“Just gonna lay here,” I whisper. So tired.

"Sleep, Dean. I’ll be right back.”

“Did you say something?”

“Here, Dean, I brought you food. Please eat. Don’t die again.”

“I won’t die. I’m good. I love you, Cas.”

“I love you, too, Dean. Please don’t die.”

I won’t. The fog’s clearing a little. “Need a shower.”

I almost remember Cas washing me, dressing me in my t-shirt and his slacks, tucking me in under fresh clean sheets. “Still cold. Still so tired.”

“Sleep. I’m here, to protect you and keep you safe. I’m sorry I did this to you, Dean.” His beautiful head on my shoulder, so much agony in his big blue eyes.

I did sleep, I know that much. And then I woke up, good as new. “What the hell.”

“Good morning, Dean.”

“What time is it? We gotta get back.”

“Earth time is irrelevant here. But it would be tomorrow.”

“That was really crazy, Cas.”

“Yes, I feel terrible about killing you.”

“I feel fine now.”

“Good. I had to put you back together again. You have a lot of angel in you now.”

“I thought that was the problem in the first place.” He’s so a-fucking-dorable when he looks confused. “Come on Cas, take us back.”

…

“Where the hell have you been? I wake up and the car’s still running, and you guys have vanished. Couldn’t you-” Poor Sam’s rolling his eyes and throwing his hands in the air in disgust. “You’re wearing each other’s clothes.” I peek at Cas; he looks good in my jeans. 

“I died, but it’s okay, I’m fine now.”

“It looks like you two have been-”

“We were. Cas literally fucked me to death. But I’m good now.” 

I can barely keep from laughing at Sam’s face right now. He is 1000% done with me. “Shut up and get in the car. I’m driving.”

We crawl into the backseat and zonk out, me leaning against Cas, his arms and wings wrapped around me. This is the safest I’ve ever felt. Got my wheels, got my bro, got my angel. This is what content feels like.


	4. In the Arms of the Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crazy!Cas seeks forgiveness

You really don’t remember? 

After you unbroke Sammy’s head, after you discovered your passion for bees, you visited me a few times. You found where I was sleeping, which, really, isn’t so surprising. You’ve been doing that for years. But you weren’t coming to watch me or to, well, visit. We still weren’t on the best of terms. Don’t get me wrong, I was thrilled you were back and not catatonic, but it’s hard to think seriously about a guy who’s completely Froot Loops. 

The first time, I woke up to find you slumped in a pile next to the couch, my hand trapped in both of yours and squeezed tight against your forehead. You were praying. To me. I tried to be kind about it, but you know how I am when I first wake up. And you started to cry. It was, well, it was terrifying. “I’m an abomination! I’ve destroyed so many lives in heaven and on earth. The humans I killed, I know some of them are in heaven now. I smote innocents, Dean. And my brethren, they’re just gone. No souls, no eternal life after death. I should destroy myself. I should follow them to oblivion.” 

You know I couldn’t let you do that. I pulled you onto the couch, made you lie down next to me, just like this, and I kissed you. You begged me to forgive you. Why me? I don’t know. I told you you didn’t need my forgiveness. “You were forgiven even before we re-opened the door to purgatory. Hell, the minute you appeared at Bobby’s and begged our help, I forgave you everything. Everything that has happened since is water under the bridge. Yeah, the chompers suck ass and they scare me worse than anything, and I mean, anything I’ve ever fought. But Cas, I know what it’s like to make mistakes. I know what it’s like to make mistakes bad enough to fuck the whole world.” You laughed softly, and it was good to see you smiling at my pain, just to see you smile like your old self again. “I’m happy to forgive and forget if it means keeping the few friends I got.” 

You cuddled up and promised to stay the night. No self-smiting. You went to sleep pretty fast, and I stayed awake to watch over you. But just as I drifted off, you sat upright and screamed. Just screaming into space. I called your name, and you vanished. What was I supposed to think? I freaked the freak out! I called your name a few more times, until Sam shouted for me to shut the hell up. Real sensitive, that one. 

I prayed to you for an hour straight. What happened? Where the hell were you? At some point, I dug into my jacket pocket for my headphones and turned on my super-secret stealth soundtrack. Turns out, I get a bit maudlin when my best friend becomes a vengeful god and then disgorges leviathan upon the earth. This one time, I was feeling particularly shitty and I heard a song that reminded me of you. Sarah McLachlan, which wouldn’t mean anything to you, but she’s about as chickish as they come. Cas, I cried listening to that song. (Don’t laugh! I swear, if you ever tell Sammy about this, I will fucking gank you!) Anyway, I bought the whole album and listened to it on repeat, every chance I got. If I was alone, I was listening to this stupid girl-music and thinking about you and wondering if you were really dead. So yeah, when you disappeared screaming in the middle of the night, I pulled out that crappy, beautiful, perfect music and I sang it to you. My heart was fifty shades of fucked, but I tried to make it sound happy. Maybe you could hear me; maybe you wouldn’t kill yourself. 

It wasn’t until several attempted sleep-overs later that you told me how much it helped. To hear my voice, to have a lifeline. I still don’t know what you saw when you had those fits. You wouldn’t tell me. You said you couldn’t begin to describe the horror. And frankly I’ve seen enough horrors for one lifetime; I didn’t press you for yours.


	5. It’s a Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Domestic!AU, an original character, and a teeny-tiny bit of Sabriel

“I am NOT teaching my four-year-old how to hunt!”

“Not. Hunting. Dean.” Cas brandished the flyer again. “Self-defense. This says ‘ages 2 and up.’ Some people would have started training her two years ago.”

Dean held up a finger. “We are not that kind of parent.”

Cas paused. “Dean. When- not if, but when- Hell arrives on our doorstep, do you want her to submit meekly to capture? Or do you want her to fight for her freedom? For her life?”

Dean’s turn to pause. “I see your point.” He rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. “We’ll ask her. If she wants to do it, I won’t argue. But, Cas, not a word about hunting or Hell.”

Cas agreed with a nod. 

“Jenna, sweetie, can you come here a minute?”

“Yes, Daddy?” she called, skipping into the room, her pretty-princess eyes sparkling. She climbed into Dean’s lap. 

Dean smiled. What wouldn’t he do to protect that sweet girl? “Hey honey, you know the ‘kicky-place’ out by the mall?” She nodded. “Well, Mama and I were talking about it, and what would you think of taking Tae Kwon Do lessons?”

“Tae Kwon Do?” she whispered reverently. 

“Yep. Is that something you would like?”

She leapt from his arms. “YEAH!” she shouted, as she ran around the room, kicking and karate-chopping. “Unh, I’m gonna get you! Hiiii-yaaaa!” 

Dean laughed at the tiny fairy fighter, still clutching her magic wand and aiming spells at her invisible enemies. 

 

Parenthood was never a part of the plan, but the Winchesters were only too accustomed to winging their way through Plan B. They were just getting the angels sorted, so close to getting everyone back to normal, back home, when they blew into a town that the boys had visited some time ago. Seems a post-hunt celebration had resulted in a baby girl for Dean. Candace was not thrilled to see her baby daddy again, but she was alone and frustrated by the isolation effected by her own stubborn choices. She confessed to Dean that, as much as she loved her daughter, she regretted keeping her. “If you and your, um, him, want, we could share custody.” Dean scoffed, said he’d think about it. 

Then the demons took her.

The motherless child left with nowhere to go. 

There was no wringing of hands over the decision to take Jenna into the Winchester family; she warmed to them at once, quickly wrapping her Daddy around her little finger and winning over Cas with the first bright flash of her big green eyes. Daddy’s eyes… Castiel’s affection for the girl was so great that Dean’s “Mama Cas” joke stuck; after the first week, Jenna never called him anything but Mama. 

There was only the question of how to keep her safe. As the boys faced down the next big boss, they stashed her with “Uncle” Garth. Six long weeks later, the newly minted family headed home.

Home is a funny word, though, when you’ve lived practically your entire life on the road, your four walls a vintage automobile. They couldn’t very well stay in the life with a 3-year-old strapped into a car seat, living out of seedy motels. Hard decisions had to be made, and soon. For Jenna’s sake, Dean agreed to pursue a legal marriage with Castiel, allowing Cas to be named as a full parent. This presented certain problems, most notably, Castiel not being an actual citizen of Earth. Creating documents to prove Cas’ identity so as to create legal documents proving Cas’ identity strained even Sam’s Photoshop skills. And even with a healthy dollop of Jedi mind trick, the red tape slowed them down for months. In the meantime, Sam snagged a decent tech job and a place for them all to live. Dean eventually found his dream job, in a specialty garage, rebuilding old cars from scratch. Perhaps most importantly, the Winchesters cultivated a partnership with a discreet neighbor woman with personal knowledge of and vendetta against certain supernatural beings; Dean wanted the family to have a bolt-hole, on the off-chance that any of them needed to disappear for a while. And Dean and Cas made a pact that when- not if, but when- the time came to resume hunting, one parent would always stay behind to guard and care for Jenna. No one entertained any delusions that they were home free: sooner or later, evil would find them, and they would be forced into their old ways. 

 

Jenna sailed through the preliminary temperament and physical testing the school required of their tiniest new students. While Dean filled out the necessary paperwork, Cas fought to prevent the spirited girl from charging into the mirrored dojang. Dean laughed and wondered to himself that this supposedly helpless little girl could so easily get the best of a full-fledged warrior angel; maybe Cas needed lessons more than Jenna. 

“I heard that,” Cas complained. 

The receptionist took the clipboard and Dean’s cash and handed over Jenna’s new uniform. “She can change in that bathroom right there,” the woman said, nodding across the hallway. The child that exited looked both smaller and more mature in her oversized dobok. The instructor came over to meet the new pupil and her parents.

Talkative as always, Jenna immediately jumped on the introductions: “Hi, I’m Jenna, I’m 4. That’s my Daddy, and that’s my Mama. I used to have a Mommy but she died. But it’s okay, because Mama says she’s very happy in heaven.” A small strangled noise erupted from the receptionist’s desk.

The instructor shifted a bit, but as neither parent commented further, he resumed his spiel. “We’re just about ready to start class. You’ll just need to put her hair up before she can join us.”

Dean’s mouth worked around a reply before finally stuttering, “Uh, I don’t know how to do that. Cas?”

The angel shrugged, equally flabbergasted.

The receptionist came to the rescue. “I’ve got a rubber band. Come here, Miss Jenna.” Her fingers flew through the fine blond mop, shaping a perfect tiny bun and securing it swiftly. “Okay, Miss Jenna, go join your class!” The woman looked up cheerfully at the two men gaping at her handiwork. 

“Are we supposed to be able to do that?” Dean asked.

The receptionist laughed. “Don’t tell me you’ve never put her hair up before.”

“We’re, uh, new to this. She only came to live with us this summer. Her mom-”

“Ah, right. Well, I’d invest in a brush and some barrettes, and then find a good DIY online. You’ll be fine. Now go on in; you’ll be amazed how fast they pick it up.”

 

No surprise, Jenna was a natural athlete. She advanced quickly in her martial arts class and began to pine for new challenges. Tae Kwon Do begat gymnastics begat track begat archery. And she was clever, too; it didn’t take her long to figure out how to outsmart and evade either parent when they played war games in the backyard. Because of course, Cas had been right- the only way to keep her safe was to train her. They never mentioned hunting, monsters, demons, not even angels (though she had more than once asked very pointed questions about Mama’s feathers and his strange abilities. “Aunt” Gabe, in his Sam-approved does-this-vessel-make-me-look-straight female form, once almost spilled the beans, but fortunately Jenna knew better than to believe a word she said.)

The idea to surreptitiously teach Jenna valuable hunter skills yielded benefits for everyone. Cas joined a martial arts class- strictly as a refresher, he said; the moves were very similar to those he’d learned in the garrison. Dean started hitting the gym and even took up running with Sam. Gabe, lazy shit he was, refused to participate in any stupid human fad, but he did promise Sam that he would stop leaving the sweets where the younger and weaker- Jenna and Dean, respectively- might find them.

When the Winchesters inevitably found themselves thrust back into the family business, they were ready.


	6. I Am the Warrior

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel monologues. That always goes well.

This is our last mission. I haven’t told Dean. But I have to, and soon. He’s out of juice, so to speak. I have been recharging his lifeline for fifteen years now. He thinks it’s only a lover’s touch, but when my fingers brush his neck, I am effectively feeding a meter that should have run out long ago. That he has lived to see 46 is, literally, a miracle.

We’re breaking our cardinal rule and leaving together, because Jenna’s nearly grown; she’s strong. She doesn’t need us anymore, which is good, because she’ll be an orphan soon. The hardest part will be keeping her from joining us. 

She knows what it means to bear the name Winchester. We couldn’t begin to keep it from her once we started going back on the road. I could go and come back and look none the worse for wear. But the first time Dean came home bleeding, broken... Sam called ahead, though I already knew the carnage that was to be carried through my front door. I tried to preserve her innocence just a bit longer, but she always was a resourceful, curious child. I gave her ice cream for dinner, read her three stories instead of the usual one, and tucked her into bed two hours early. She knew I was acting out of character; she knew the second Mama opened the freezer that today was no ordinary day. At the age of eight, the girl could already smell a trap faster than anyone I’ve ever known, on any plane of existence, and she made it her business to uncover the deception. No doubt, it’s the reason she’s still alive.

She’s known about hunting for half her life and has experienced so many close calls. Demons, vamps, nastier things; they all underestimate her. When their superiors order them to take Jenna Winchester, they should flee in fear for their lives. And still, to this day, they saunter in looking for a frightened child and instead find themselves trapped, skewered, and utterly vanquished. She is a force like her Daddy never was. And that’s saying something.

Chances are good that she’ll respond to our demise by taking up the mantle. She’s young yet, but she’s clever, brave, and the best damn liar since Dean Winchester. She’ll make us all proud for many years to come; she has a long lifeline. Yes, I knew that, way back then, when I demanded she be trained for the life. Long before I knew her, or even Dean, for that matter. I know a few things about her future. State secrets, if you will. The Winchesters are my family, and I love them more dearly than I ever loved my own father. But in the end, they were always a job: keep Dean safe and help his daughter to become a warrior. Team Free Will was a lie- we have always been destiny’s bitch.

When next I “attempt” to recharge Dean, I’ll tell him what I can. I’ll tell him about his lifeline. I’ll tell him that his next death will come soon and that it will be permanent. I’ll tell him that he is assured of Heaven and that I will be with him. And Sam, one day, but not immediately; that should please him. I’ll tell him that Jenna … well, there’s only so much that I can legally tell him about Jenna. I’ll remind him that she’s clever, brave, and the best damn liar since Dean Winchester; that she is a force like her Daddy never was; that she can smell a trap faster than anyone I’ve ever known, on any plane of existence; that she doesn’t need us anymore. And when I tell him that his life with her and with me has literally been a miracle, he will thank me and ask me no questions. I won’t lie to him on his last day on Earth.


End file.
